


I'll Be Home For Christmas

by a_xmasmurder



Series: 221B's and Drabbles (Multi-Fandom) [12]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - All Media Types, Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Christmas Story, Established Relationship, Fluff of the fluffiest, M/M, Saccharine, Shmoop, silly thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 21:02:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1098558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_xmasmurder/pseuds/a_xmasmurder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q and Bond are separated for the holidays.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Be Home For Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what came over me, but I heard "I'll Be Home For Christmas" at work, and this thing popped into my head. *shrugs*

The night lights of London were beautiful in the snow. They shone brightly and made each fluffy flake sparkle as it floated to the ground.

Q wrapped his hands around his travel mug full of coffee and looked up into the sky. A world away, his love was neck deep in conspiracy theories and research, attempting to trap one of the world’s most notorious arms dealers. People swirled around him; finishing up the last of their shopping, running home before public transport froze under the snowfall, frenzied and frantic and rushed. He just stood in the middle of the sidewalk and stared up at the clouds. Flecks of snow dusted his ruddied cheeks and dark hair, melted on the lenses of his glasses. He blinked and smiled wistfully. _It’s Christmas Eve. I wonder if it’s snowing where he’s at. Probably not, since it’s Taiwan. But still._ He blew out a breath, savouring the warmth of the coffee in his hand. Curls of steam brushed against his nose, and he sipped, smiling more. I should find a present for him.

He walked into a little Chinese shop and closed his eyes when he got to the table full of kitschy knick-knacks, stuck his hand out, and picked one at random. He didn’t look at it as he brought it up to the counter, and Mrs. Chang gave him a beaming smile as she rang it up and placed it into a box with a bow. “This for your friend Mr. Sterling?”

Q nodded. “He’s away on business, and I’m not sure if he’ll make it back tonight.” _He definitely wouldn’t._ “I want to surprise him.”

“I think that he will like this one, dear.” She patted his arm and handed him a mug of tea. “You stay warm out there. Boy thin as you, you’ll freeze inside of a minute without something warm. Mr. Sterling should come home and buy you a nice jacket.”

Q smiled again. “Thank you.” He slipped the box under his arm and grabbed the cups with both hands, then walked out and waited for a cab.

  
  


* * *

 

 

James leaned back in the computer chair in the workroom of his hotel suite and stretched. There wasn’t much more he could do tonight...well, morning. He looked at the wall clock. Yeah, morning. He needed sleep before he could crack the cypher, and it wasn’t as if it were time-sensitive information there, for once. This assignment was a simple one, one that any agent could have done. But Mallory - M - had noticed Bond getting antsy, and Bond getting antsy never bode well. Nothing and no one was safe at MI6 from an antsy Bond. And since Q really needed to get work done…

Bond smiled at the memory of how his dear Quartermaster had all but ran him to ground after he’d accidentally busted a very important bit of computer component under his hand as he leaned on Q’s desk five days ago. The way that Q could yell at you with his eyebrows, raise holy Cain by just licking his lips and looking at you; the way he didn’t even have to raise his voice or resort to harsh language to make even a hardened assassin back away with hands raised in defence… Bond had to admit that was thrilling.

From the room below, he heard the chorus of a familiar Christmas song. He tossed the pencil onto the table and groaned. _Shit. I forgot that it’s Christmas._ And he didn’t even have a present for Q yet. He turned on his laptop and hummed as it booted itself. He normally didn’t celebrate the holiday. He hadn’t seen the need to for years, especially since it’d become so commercialised and damned depressing. But then Q came along, with his almost childish but adorable glee at fairy lights and tinsel and his insistence at getting a ‘Charlie Brown’ tree every year to decorate his tiny flat with - even though his cat Marley kept knocking it off the coffee table and getting pine needles everywhere - and even Bond started feeling the old happiness of the season again. He poked at the keys and pulled up his internet browser. _I wonder if he likes socks._

  
  


* * *

  
  


Q pulled off his scarf and pooled it onto the kitchen table, and set the box next to it. He tossed the cups into the sink and wandered into the sitting room, sinking into his couch and grabbing the remote. Marley jumped up next to him and yelled at him.

“What could you possibly want now?” Q rubbed Marley’s ears and grinned. “Did you knock over the tree again?”

Marley grumble-meowed and licked the spilled coffee off of Q’s fingers.

“Yes, you love sugar, don’t you?” Q smiled. “I got a present for James. It didn’t cost much. I hope he’ll like it. It’s really too bad that he can’t be here to open it tomorrow.” He turned the television on. “It’s probably five a.m. in Taipei. He’s asleep.” The smile turned to a slight frown. “I hope he is. He works too much.”

Marley headbutted him.

“Yeah, I know. So do I. But I left work early today, didn’t you notice? I’m here, and it’s not midnight.” The programme was something mundane and not worth his time, but the noise was a comfort. Q didn’t like silence, not at Christmas.

His personal mobile buzzed in his coat pocket, which reminded Q that he hadn’t taken it off yet. He pulled the phone out and looked at the display.

‘Richard Sterling’. He grinned and hit ‘Answer’. “Hallo. You are supposed to be asleep.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


James drew back the covers of the hotel bed. “Getting there. I didn’t break the code yet, but there’s always...well, a couple hours from now.” He cradled his phone against his shoulder as he fluffed up the pillows. “I just took a shower and am turning down the bedding now.”

“And how is the hotel? Is it up to your standards?” Q sounded happy, and Bond could hear the television in the background. ‘Chatty Man’ was on, apparently. He couldn’t make out who was the guest star.

“It’s great. The heated pool is saltwater, which is fantastic. I can’t believe you found one on such short notice. And I have to say that the room service is spectacular.”

“It’s all I could do for you.”

James smiled and patted the bed. “Pillow topped and memory foam. You are a dream.”

“Why, thank you!” James could nearly hear the blush on Q’s cheeks. A snuffle told him that Marley had headbutted the phone.

“Hello, Marley.”

The cat sneezed and started to purr. Q laughed. “He likes you, you know.”

“Of course. First night I stayed over, he shit in my shoe and clawed up my suit jacket.” Bond slipped under the covers, bare save for a pair of pants that Q’d bought him a month ago. “It’s a match made in heaven.”

“Marking his territory, to be sure.” Q cleared his throat. “It wouldn’t happen to be snowing where you are, is it?”

James craned his head to look out the sliding glass panels of the balcony doors. “Nope. There’s a cool breeze blowing in from the ocean, though. A beautiful night. At least there isn’t a typhoon.”

“Wait a few hours. I checked the weather, and there’s a system moving into the area.”

Bond blinked and got back out of bed. He walked over and opened the balcony doors and stepped out onto the concrete balcony. He leaned against the wrought iron rail and looked up at the stars. “It’s completely clear out right now. If it weren’t for the city lights, I’d wager you could see all the stars in the sky.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


Q curled up on the couch with Marley and his duvet, coat finally off and hung up. “You aren’t out there in your pants, are you?”

“I could be.” Q could hear the snarky grin in Bond’s voice.

Q laughed again. “Oh, hell. I’m surprised I can’t hear the women screaming in ecstasy from here!”

On the other end, Bond laughed too. “Tell me what it’s doing there.”

Q unfolded himself once more, dislodging Marley. He walked to his own balcony and opened the door. “Well, I’ve got a half-inch of snow on my back stoop. I’m barefoot. I’m going to freeze.” Marley opted to stay in as Q wrapped the duvet closer around him and stepped out. “Oh, that’s cold!”

Bond laughed at him, and Q scowled at the phone.

“Is it still snowing there?”

“It is.” Q looked up into the sky. The mug of hot tea in his hand let off its steam into the air, and it was perfect. The flakes of snow had turned into fat clumps, and Q held out a hand to catch them. “It’s beautiful here, too. I think we’ll have a couple inches by the time all is said and done. It’s lovely. Mallory sent me home early, and I got you a present.”

“I got you something, too. It’s on its way, hopefully. I expedited the shipping.”

Q smiled and sipped his tea. “Thank you.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


Bond watched as the horizon started to lighten. “Nautical dawn.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to keep you up, love!” Something rustled over the line, and Bond smiled.

“It’s alright. I don’t think I was going to get much sleep anyway. Perhaps I’ll take a catnap later, between lunch with Bernand and cracking this cypher.” He pressed his lips together and swallowed. “I miss you.”

There was a pause. In a quiet voice, Q said, “I love you.” In his next breath, his voice was back to its strong and confident normal. “It’s still Christmas Eve here.”

Bond watched the skies above lighten fractionally. “It’s Christmas Day for me. Merry Christmas, Quartermaster.”

“Merry Christmas, Double O Seven. Try to get some rest?”

Bond nodded. “I’ll give it my best.” He pressed the ‘end call’ button and sighed. Maybe he should get some rest before he went stir-crazy and started an international incident.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Q pressed his mug of tea against his lips again, but he didn’t drink from it. All at once, he was hit with an ache in his chest, and he blinked back what could have been tears. The background noise of the telly wasn’t enough to drive away the emptiness of the flat.

Marley yowled. Q turned and looked at him. “I hate being alone on Christmas.” He stepped back inside and slid the door shut. His feet were numb and wet, and he shivered. “God, I wish he was home right now. I need to warm up, and he’s a furnace in the winter.” He padded into the kitchen and dumped his tea into the sink, flipped off the overhead light, and wandered back to the couch.

For hours, he flipped through channels. Of course, it being Christmas, there was nothing but holiday movies and shows and specials and music and food...Q finally settled for turning the telly off and turning his stereo on the lowest setting. Soft music - Christmas music, wordless but beautiful - filled the room, and he snuggled into the duvet and closed his eyes, hoping to catch some sleep before the morning.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Bond shut the laptop and unplugged it from the wall, then crawled back into bed. His phone was set to wake him in two hours, if nothing interesting happened. He laid back, his head on the soft cool pillows, and closed his eyes. Immediately, his mind took him not to a combat sleep, not a deep sleep, but to a dream. A dream, if he’d be honest with himself, he’d had before when he was away from his Quartermaster. In the dream, he was home. Not just London-home, not just MI6-home, but home. His feet carried him to the doorstep, and Q opened the door for him, all smiles and bed head and mental cat weaving through his ankles. He dropped his tired dream-form to the couch and said “It’s good to be home.” Dream-Q joined him, wrapping his lithe body around him, and rested his head on his shoulder.

“I’m glad you are home.”

He woke up with a start and a weight on his chest. The assassin didn’t actually last long, since Bond hadn’t been fully asleep just yet. Bond snapped his neck and snatched up his mobile, pressing in Bernand’s number from memory. There was one thing for certain. Bond sure wished he was home right now.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Q’s phone trilled, jolting him out of a perfect dream where he and Bond were sitting at the kitchen table eating crepes and drinking coffee like a normal couple on an overcast Monday morning. He pulled the cover off of his head and answered. His sleep-softened features hardened into razor-fine precision after only a few seconds of listening to the other person - R - explain the situation.

“Fine. I’ll be online in a moment. Wait one.” He stepped out of his cocoon and made his way to his computer room. “Where is he now?”

 

 

* * *

  
  


“If you will wait for a couple minutes, I’ll put you with your mission handler.”

Bond rolled his eyes and jammed the keys into the ignition of his car. “Bernand is not answering his phone, and I really need to know what the hell just happened. Jesus.” He smirked. “Close my eyes for a second and it all goes to shit.”

“Alright, I have -”

“Double O Seven.”

Bond’s smirk widened into a stupid grin. “You don’t sound awake, Quartermaster.”

“I’m as awake as you are going to get right now.” Q’s tone was playful. “I’ve been appraised of the situation, and we have a team on their way to Bernand’s flat to - oh. They are at the residence. Or, rather, what’s left of it.”

Bond sighed. “Explosives?”

Q chuckled. “By the looks of it, they spared no expense. Christ, Bond, the building isn’t even on the map anymore. It was never there.”

“Well, that’s thorough.” Bond eased into traffic, checking his watch and his cuff. “Got a trail for me?”

“Wait one.”

As he worked on getting Bond information, Q started to hum ‘I’ll Be Home For Christmas’ into the earpiece.

Bond nodded, not vocalising his acknowledgement. They knew each other too well. As he drove, he smiled, something softer and kinder than his earlier grin. “You know, a home doesn’t have to be a building.”

A small intake of breath let Bond know that Q’d heard him.

“In fact, I’d wager that I’m home right now. With you. Right here.”

Q huffed softly. “And I’d take that wager, Double O Seven. We are home, aren’t we?”

“We are right where we were meant to be.”

  
  
  


 

 


End file.
